Page 12 of How to Woo a Highlander

The second thing she noted was that the deeper they walked into the village, the more destroyed buildings she saw. It looked like there had been a fire that had spread to most of the buildings. She then understood why so many young men were about trying to build new ones.

The last thing she noted was that there weren't many men old enough to be fathers and husbands. The oldest men looked to be in their late twenties at most. She wondered what calamity the people here had faced. They were healing; anyone who visited them could see it as clear as day. The wound seemed to be very old, but it must have been significant, since the people had not yet recovered. She glanced at Alastair again, wondering if she should ask, but he was already looking at her.

He looked away when she caught his gaze and picked up the pace, heading away from the crowds and the buildings to the plains beside the village where a small hill loomed. She frowned to herself, thinking about what a terrible job he was doing of showing her around. Usually, guides were chatty, explaining everything. They climbed the hill, and when he sat, she followed suit, lowering herself tentatively to sit beside him on the grass. She hugged her knees to her chest, placing her chin on them.

They could see most of the village from their perch, and she imagined growing up in a village like that. She just knew that the hill would have been her favorite place, far away from everyone else, yet close enough that she could see them.

"Dae ye have any questions about the village?" Alastair asked, surprising her with his sudden question.

Oh, so he was going to try to be a proper guide? It did not seem like it from the expression he was wearing. She stammered for a moment before getting her words out.

"Oh, um, yes. Did a fire occur in this village? There are so many burnt down buildings. Also, why does the village not have any older men? Where are the women's husbands?" she asked.

For once, he was not looking at her with anger, but somehow it was worse, as his expression was blank, and his eyes were without emotion.

"Well, at least ye are observant," he muttered as though he had not expected her to notice anything. Jane frowned but she said nothing in response, waiting for him to answer her questions

"This village was one of those in the clan that was hit the hardest by the Jacobite rebellion," he said, his voice dull.

Jane blinked. She knew a little about the war from her father. The Scots had been drawn into an English war and had borne the brunt of it.

"Many men died in the war, and those who didnae were pursued back to the village and murdered by vengeful enemies. English enemies," he looked directly into her eyes as he spoke.

"Fire was set to the village, and even now, after ten years, the people are still rebuildin'. The damage has been done, however. Several women were made widows and children left without faithers."

Jane swallowed with some difficulty and looked back at the village. She understood William at that moment. She could imagine why the people would not be very keen on an English woman marrying their Laird.

She felt sad for all they had faced but at the same time deeply respected them. In the face of everything they had gone through, they picked themselves up and went on with life.

"The people are strong, stronger with William leadin' them. It was nae easy puttin' the village back together again, especially since after it happened, all that was left of the village was ashes, and women and children, but William never gave up. He was but a lad himself at the time, but his faither had given him the task of helpin' the villages. Even now, he continues to work hard so that all his people are well," Alastair praised.

Jane saw the passion in his eyes as he spoke. It was evident that he was loyal to his people and William.

"I understand why you hate me now. I'm sorry for judging you and all I have said to you so far," she conceded quietly.

Chapter Six

Alastair blinked, taken aback by the English woman's words. She was not wrong, he did hate her, but it was more than that, and, if he were honest, she did not deserve his hate.

When he had gone down to the courtyard to see why William had called him, it had shaken him to the core when he found her smiling with him, their hands held, and him stroking her hair. Contrary to what he would like to admit, the first thing that he felt was jealousy. Her smile was breathtaking, and a small part of him wished that it was directed at him instead.

After the jealousy, anger had taken root. William was usually too busy for women and not interested in them, yet he was with the English woman. He had been furious at her for charming his best friend, but most of his anger was directed at himself. Not only was he betraying himself by liking an English woman, but he was also betraying his friend by being jealous of him.

He had felt ashamed of himself ever since he’d spoken to her at the feast but was too scared to stop hating her; otherwise, he would have nothing to hold back his interest in her.

At that moment, sitting on that hill overlooking the village wounded by her people, his resolve to hate her melted. She had been right in the first place when she told him not to judge her by her people. He was not willing to be reasonable at the time and had brought her to the village as a test, trying to give himself a reason to hate her. He wanted to see if she was spoiled and entitled, like some of the Ladies in England he had met

He had chosen the open carriage and waited for her to complain about the wind in her hair. She had enjoyed the carriage ride instead, much to his chagrin, and he grudgingly accepted that she was not what he had first taken her for.

He had walked through the village, keeping an eye on her expression, but all he had seen was curiosity and concern. She was less self-absorbed than he had thought. Not once did she complain that they had been walking around aimlessly while he said nothing, nor did she impatiently ask him where he meant to take her. Instead, she had immersed herself in watching the people and observing everything.

Her gaze was soft and understanding when he had expected her to be defensive and try to justify what had happened. She looked resigned, as though she would no longer contest his hatred, and that took away his will to hate her. Loose hair from her bun flew about her face, and he stilled his hand to keep himself from tucking it behind her ears.

The memory of William doing the same saddened him more than it should have. The gesture could mean that his friend liked her and was open about it. He would not compete with his friend, so he would have to keep his attraction at bay. Having something else to hold him back, hating her was no longer necessary.

"I apologize as well, Miss Baxendale. I have nae been fair to ye from the moment we met."

Jane shrugged. "I no longer hold it against you, anyone would be prejudiced against my people if they faced something such as what happened to this village."